Supersensory Charm
by hermionepuckle
Summary: Harry/Ron - Set during OotP. The twins give Ron an interesting gift for Hermione, but he accidentally uses it on somebody else.


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****Title: **Supersensory Charm  
**Rating:** R  
**Word Count: **2781  
**Summary: **The twins give Ron an interesting gift for Hermione, but he accidentally uses it on somebody else.  
**Warnings: **Underage (15), dry humping, twin-ly interference, acting involuntarily under the influence (of a Wheeze), mention of implied Ron/Hermione  
**Author's Note:** Originally posted as a gift for **endure** for **bestmates_xmas** 2008 LJ. I was looking forward to it all year, and I was not disappointed. It was a pleasure to be involved and there were so many wonderful stories – thank you to** kerryblaze** for making sure everything ran smoothly.

Thank you to **shocolate** for her help when I was struggling for a bunny, and to **luvscharlie** who made sure it was readable. I think people can easily interpret this one how they like – as a one and only time, or a one time that led to may others…

A large portion of the dialogue here is taken/adapted from dialogue in _Chapter 23 - Christmas on the Closed Ward_ (OotP UK Hardback Version – Pages 440-443).

* * *

The twins were walking through the halls of Hogwarts, as they often did, to find inspiration for a new Wheeze. The Skiving Snackboxes were going down a treat and the Wildfire Whiz-Bangs were almost ready to be sold publicly, so they needed a new project idea.

"Do you see what I see, Fred?" George asked.

The twins had spotted Ron and Hermione doing prefect duty. They were helping to levitate tinsel and other decorations over a classroom door. Fred and George watched from a distance as they desperately tried to avoid being caught under the same piece of mistletoe together, blushing every time they brushed past each other.

Fred rolled his eyes.

"I think I do, George. In fact, I think just about everybody but the two of them can see the same thing by now."

"Oh, I reckon they see it… Ron's just too shit scared to do anything about it."

"Well, I think it's up to us to give him a little push, don't you?" Fred had that look on his face, the one that meant a light bulb had just been turned on in his head.

"Of course," George agreed, anxious to see what Fred had in mind. "We have an obligation as big brothers to help him…"

"… For his own good, of course," Fred added, smirking. "Come on, let's go and steal some ingredients from Snape. We've got work to do."

* * *

Grimmauld Place was miserable at the best of times, but when your best mate was avoiding you it was downright depressing. Ron was sat at the kitchen table pushing mashed potato around his plate, spreading it around until it mixed with everything else. Harry had missed several meals by now and Ron was beginning to worry. It was obvious that Harry just wanted to be left alone, but Ron couldn't take much more of this.

An owl had arrived from Hermione earlier that afternoon. She had written that _skiing was really good actually, Ron_, but she'd tried her best to get out of it when she heard about what had happened. However, she said she'd failed to find an excuse that her parents would accept. She couldn't tell them the truth because they'd be reluctant to let her go back to Hogwarts at all, and they insisted that she stayed with them because they didn't see their little girl often enough.

_Look after Harry,_ she'd written.

Well, a fine job I'm doing of that, Ron thought bitterly.

He suddenly decided he'd let this go on long enough. Glancing at his mother to check that she wasn't looking his way, he made a quick escape from the table and up the stairs. He made his way to the second floor and checked the room they'd been sharing, but he didn't find Harry there. There was only one other place that Ron thought he might be, so Ron continued to the third floor and rapped on the door to the master bedroom. He heard Buckbeak squawk in surprise but there was no answer from Harry.

"Harry, I know you're in there," Ron said loudly. He heard footsteps coming up the stairs behind him and turned to find a determined-looking Ginny. Turning back to the door, he tried to turn the serpent-shaped doorknob but found the door locked. "Harry, open the door please. I need to talk to you."

They heard the lock click and Ron opened the door. Harry was sitting on the floor next to Buckbeak, feeding him dead rats. He looked up when Ron entered, but didn't quite meet his gaze. There were dark circles under his eyes and Ron inwardly cursed himself that he hadn't approached Harry sooner.

"I just got this from Hermione," Ron said after clearing his throat. He pulled her letter from the back pocket of his jeans and handed it to Harry, who scanned the page silently.

"Probably just an excuse for her to avoid me," he said petulantly, scrunching the parchment up with his fist and throwing it back in Ron's direction.

"Why would she be avoiding you?" Ron frowned.

"Same reason you're all avoiding me."

"It's you who has been avoiding us, Harry," Ginny supplied quickly. "You're the one who has been hiding up here ever since we got back from St. Mungo's. You won't even look at any of us."

"It's you lot who won't look at me!" Harry shouted.

"Well, maybe we're taking it in turns to look, and we keep missing each other." Ginny's poor attempt at lightening the mood failed miserably.

"Very funny," Harry snapped.

"Listen Harry, we wanted to talk to you…"

"Well, I didn't want anyone to talk to me."

"Well, that was a bit stupid of you," Ginny said angrily, "seeing as you don't know anyone but me who's been possessed by You-Know-Who, and I can tell you how it feels."

There was silence for a couple of minutes as Harry let her words sink in. Ron was glad that she'd followed him, because he really didn't think he'd have been able to deal with Harry like she could.

"I forgot," Harry said, wincing as he met Ginny's eyes for the first time.

"Lucky you," she answered coolly.

"I'm sorry," he said, and Ron thought he sounded genuine. "So… so, do you think I'm being possessed then?"

"Can you remember everything you've been doing? Are there big blank periods where you don't know what you've been up to?"

"No."

"Then You-Know-Who has never possessed you."

"But that dream about your dad and the snake…"

"Harry, you've had dreams like that before," Ron interrupted, feeling useless just standing there and letting Ginny do all the work. "You had flashes of what You-Know-Who was up to last year."

"But this was different. It was like I _was_ the snake… what if Voldemort somehow transported me to London -?"

"You didn't leave your bed, mate," said Ron, trying hard not to flinch at the shiver that the name sent up his spine. "I saw you thrashing about in your sleep for at least a minute before we could wake you up. It wasn't you, Harry. C'mon, let's go down to our room; I'm sure mum said that she'd sent some sandwiches up before dinner, in case you got hungry."

* * *

By Christmas Eve, Harry was feeling uplifted. He couldn't remember feeling this content in a long time; seeing Sirius so happy had had a huge impact on his mood.

"Today was good," Ron said as he pulled on his pyjama bottoms and slipped between the sheets of his bed.

Harry sat down on the edge of his own bed to pull off his shoes and socks, before shimmying out of his jeans and pulling on his own pyjamas. He whispered "Nox", and placed his wand on the bedside table between their beds. It took Harry's eyes a few seconds to adjust to the change in light; the room would have been in complete darkness had it not been for the small amount of moonlight being filtered through a dust-ridden window.

"Yeah, it's a pity Hermione isn't here," Harry said as he climbed onto his bed, taking off his glasses to place them next to his wand. He heard Ron hum in agreement. "Especially when you were going to give her that perfume for Christmas."

"Oh, shut up."

Harry couldn't help but grin. He'd been dying to tease Ron about it all day.

"What's it smell like, then?" he asked as he shifted to lean on his elbow to face Ron's bed. Squinting in the darkness without his glasses, he could just make out a ginger blob not too far away.

"I don't know," Ron confessed when he turned to see Harry smirking at him in the dark. "I haven't actually smelt it."

Harry watched the ginger blur as it moved towards the end of Ron's bed, and heard Ron rummaging around in the trunk at the foot of it. He rifled around until he found an old odd sock.

"Bloody maroon!" Harry heard Ron mutter under his breath, and watched as he pulled a small oval-shaped bottle from one of them. What little light there was in the room caught the glass bottle and Harry watched as it moved in the direction of Ron's face. Ron removed the lid and held the nozzle to his nose.

"It's a bit whiffy actually," Ron admitted, "but, according to Fred and George, the seventh year girls are raving about this stuff."

He leant across the gap between their beds so that Harry could smell it too. Harry grimaced and flinched away.

"Ron, Hermione may be a girl but even she'd tell you that that smells like old lady."

"Well, judging by how often you shout Mcgonagall's name in your sleep, I'd say you like a bit of old lady."

"Fuck off," Harry laughed, embarrassed by his uncontrollable teenage fantasies. The lads in the dormitory had been teasing him about it since the beginning of the year.

"Shall I spray some on your pillow?" Ron joked. Chuckling, he jumped off the bed and launched himself across the room onto Harry's bed.

He landed on top of Harry, straddling his hips and lifting the bottle to spray it on the pillow next to Harry's head. Harry's hand came up to grab Ron's wrist and they struggled with each other, Ron trying to pin Harry's hands with his left whilst Harry tried directing Ron's right hand as far away from him as possible.

After wrestling and giggling on the bed for several minutes, Harry made the mistake of bending an elbow at just the right angle so that Ron could spray Harry's neck instead. He pressed the nozzle down before Harry could realise and move his hand out of the way.

"Bastard," Harry laughed, spluttering as some of the perfume went in his mouth. He let go of Ron and wiped his hands across his face to get rid of the awful taste.

Suddenly, Ron leant forward now that Harry had stopped pushing him away. He pressed his nose to Harry's neck and breathed deeply.

And he moaned.

And Harry froze.

"R… Ron?"

Ron inhaled again.

"Blimey!" he breathed, and to Harry's complete astonishment Ron poked his tongue out and ran it along Harry's neck.

"What… what are you doing?" Harry stammered.

"Don't you smell that?" Ron said huskily.

"What? Smell what?" Harry said, panicking. "I only smell that vile perfume!"

"How can you not smell it? Harry, you smell amazing," Ron told him, moaning again.

Ron pressed himself against Harry's hip and Harry yelped when he felt an unmistakable bulge at the front of Ron's jeans.

"Where did you say the perfume was from?" Harry asked.

"What perfume? God, Harry, why do you smell so good?"

Ron was slowly rocking against him now, rubbing himself against Harry's leg. Harry was trying to be rational - there had to be a reason for Ron's sudden change in mood - but it was growing more difficult for him to think rationally when the friction felt so good. He was fighting the impulse to rock back against Ron. He felt hot, and nervous, and Ron was obviously under some sort of spell and it would be so wrong for Harry to go along with this… no matter how hard it was making him.

"The perfume. Oh, fuck. Did you mention the twins?" Of course, Harry thought. "Ron, let me see the bottle!"

Harry turned his head to find the bottle. It was lying next to Ron's hand on the bed and as he reached up to get it, Ron moved his hand.

Suddenly, Harry was filled with the most fantastic feeling. He could smell something wonderful. He couldn't put a name to it, all he knew was he had to find out where it was coming from. Ron moved his hand again, closer to Harry's head, and Harry grabbed it and lifted Ron's fingers to his nose.

"Fuck," Harry moaned. Ron's index finger was the most erotic thing Harry had ever had contact with. He'd never been so turned on before in his life. He was hard and he just needed this. Without thinking, Harry sucked the finger into his mouth and shuddered when Ron's lips vibrated in a groan against his throat. He ran his tongue around the tip and let his teeth graze his knuckle gently.

"Harry," Ron whispered, his breath brushing across Harry's neck and cooling the saliva that his tongue had left behind. He lifted his head to look at Harry and Harry was forced to release Ron's finger as his mouth opened in a gasp. Ron's eyes were deep pools of black and Harry was transfixed.

Ron ground his hips hard against Harry's thigh, creating generous friction between his leg and Harry's cloth-covered erection. Suddenly, he grabbed the back of Ron's head roughly, so that he could crush their mouths together. Their tongues moved wetly against each other in a way that should never have been enjoyable, but it was. It was perfect. Harry wrapped his ankles behind Ron's knees and shifted so that their groins were lined up.

They were moving against each other furiously, and Harry was getting closer and closer to coming in his pants. The position and the friction and the heat were just right, and just as he felt a familiar dip in his stomach he was bombarded with a million thoughts.

This was so good, but why? Why was it so good? This was Ron and he was a boy and it shouldn't feel so good, but it did and it was wonderful and he couldn't even think about how awkward this would be in a few minutes… and how had this happened anyway?

Within a few seconds of each other, the boys tensed and shuddered against one another, and then immediately they both froze.

Harry's heart was racing and now that his blood wasn't needed elsewhere it all seemed to be filling his face instead. His pants were sticky and uncomfortable, but, worse than that, he'd never felt more awkward in his life. What if everything was ruined now?

They lay still for a long time. Eventually, Ron shifted to lean on his hands and look down at Harry. Harry struggled to meet Ron's eyes, terrified of his reaction, terrified that he was going to lose the only best friend he'd ever had, the one he'd miss most.

"Fucking twins," Ron panted, and Harry heard him swallow audibly. His face looked as flushed as Harry's felt, but the corner of his mouth was lifted in an embarrassed smile and Harry knew everything was going to be okay.

* * *

"Maybe we were wrong. Maybe they don't fancy each other?" George thought out loud. They'd been back at Hogwarts for a couple of weeks now and Ron hadn't done a thing about his feelings for Hermione. They had used a Supersensory Charm to modify a simple love potion that was supposed to work better if the pair already had great chemistry, but it seemed like it had had no effect. "Or maybe it just wasn't strong enough?"

"Or maybe she isn't wearing it because it smelt awful?" Fred reasoned. "We should have thought of all this earlier, we'd have had time to make it smell a bit sweeter."

"Yeah. It's a shame, 'cause we've missed out on Ron making a complete fool of himself." George lifted a quill and began doodling on the preliminary ideas they had made for their new WonderWitch products. "Another prototype then?"

Fred nodded.

"We'll need to make some changes to the recipe, of course. Then we need to find someone else to test it on. Now, who can our next victim be…"

He looked across the common room. Ron and Harry were sat close together, whispering to each other and grinning as though they were planning something. Hermione was sat opposite writing on a piece of parchment at least twelve inches long. All three of them were out of the question now, of course. Ron would become suspicious if they kept giving him things, Hermione would never trust anything they gave her anyway, and they hadn't noticed Harry being interested in anyone lately. There'd been Cho, but that seemed to be over and done with now.

Just then a very flustered looking Neville Longbottom approached their table.

"Er… I don't suppose you've seen Parvarti anywhere, have you?"

"Sorry Neville," Fred answered, shaking his head but meeting his brother's eyes across the table.

"Thanks, anyway," Neville said, muttering to himself as he made his way to the portrait hole.

"Well, that was easy. Now about that recipe…"


End file.
